The Thorns of a Tudor Rose
By Sammi Cox
Night falls, and I wait. What do the hours of darkness hold for me, Anne, Queen of England, I wonder?
I cross to the table and pour myself a drink of wine. I’m alone, and glad to be. My maids and ladies-in-waiting are banished from my sight. I do not need their simpering or giggling, their girlish chatter and childish whimsy. They do not understand the weight upon me. It’s not easy being the queen. My mind races, always thinking, always planning. I may smile and laugh and sing, but it is a mask. No period in my life has been more serious. To climb so high, I fear to fall…
I drink long and deep. The wine is a balm, but it can only achieve so much. Nervously, I wait, twisting my necklace, an ornate golden “B” with pearls, a gift from Henry during happier days. Eventually, I sit in the chair by the fire, for I know my bed will offer me no comfort.
I do not wish to sleep and suffer dreams of how my body fails to fulfil my promise to my husband, my love, my king. My daughter, my cherished heart, is beautiful, but she is not the son he yearns for. He speaks kind words to me, words of love, but it’s in his eyes I see the truth.
And yet, to remain awake is to invite her into my presence, a nightly torment I have endured these past weeks. I thought I was safe from my enemies when they were dead. But, alas, no! They plague me still. She plagues me still. Katherine, The Dowager Princess of Wales. Katherine, who called herself queen until the day she breathed her last, even though she wasn’t entitled to do so.
Her spirit is restless, though a month and more has passed since she died at Kimbolton Castle and was laid to rest in the Cathedral Church in Peterborough. Now she has taken to visiting me, night after night. Her purpose? I can only guess at it, but I believe she means to distress me, perhaps send me into madness.
I close my eyes and hope the wine will give me the comfort I seek: a night undisturbed by troubles. My wanting is in vain. I do not drift off into sleep. A little time passes, and slowly I open my eyes, aware that I am no longer alone in my bedchamber.
She stands before me, as vivid in death as she was in life. Even now there is a beauty, a charm, about her, the contrast between fair skin and auburn hair, striking. And those blue eyes! They pierce me but I dare not look away. To do so is to concede defeat, to admit she is – was, always has been – in the right and I am in the wrong. I will not do it. My precious Elizabeth’s future depends upon it. I do not wish her to become another Mary, another bastard.
‘Do you now realise how uncertain the ground is beneath your feet?’ the apparition asks, foregoing any greeting, as was her want. ‘Or do you still falsely believe you are in control of all?’
Her poise is graceful, regal. Not because she is queenly, I think to myself, but because she is the daughter of a king. Her face betrays nothing. I cannot tell if she is goading me, so I remain silent and continue to sip my wine. My movements are measured and slow; I will show her how in control I am. Every now and then I look elsewhere in the room, not for the reason I can no longer face her but to let her know how tiresome these frequent conversations are becoming.
‘You think you have attained all, little Anne. The test is not in the acquiring but in the keeping.’
I smile at her use of the diminutive. She thinks to relegate my position beneath hers. She will have to try harder.
‘I outlasted you, didn’t I?’ I whisper, a hint of triumph in my voice.
‘You know better than that, little Anne. I am only one amongst many.’
Was that a smile I glimpsed? It was so fleeting I couldn’t be sure.
‘It must be difficult, your position I mean. You’re not as popular as a queen should be. The people should love you. It is not enough to only have the love of your husband, even if he is the king. If that should fade…’
I clench my jaw, trying hard not react. It takes all my strength. Why was this ghost able to unseat me when men of flesh and blood could not? That was simply answered. The dead Dowager Princess touched upon a raw subject. The people of England had no great love for me. Where they had lined the streets and cheered for the Spanish princess, they kept away for me. Why had they loved her so? Why was she so special?
Katherine, slowly taking a turn about the room, answers as if she can read my thoughts. ‘The people did not have to fear for the future when I was queen. I offered them comfort. Their lives held certainty, security.’ Suddenly she turns, her tone accusatory. ‘But you! You think of nothing but yourself, and so you plot and connive and scheme like a common knave, causing trouble, causing upset. The people know you for what you are, little Anne. And it’s not a queen.’
‘Do you ever wonder why Henry was so eager to cast you aside?’ I snap. ‘There is no mystery to it, Dour Princess.’ It is my turn to offer a glimpse of a smile. I think my retort is a clever play on words. ‘It is not enough to only have the love of the people,’ I say, twisting her words back at her. ‘A king needs more…lively company.’
‘And where do you think he is finding that lively company now?’ I watch as she takes an exaggerated look around my bedchamber to prove that the king was elsewhere.
I know where he is. Chasing after Jane Seymour. But I won’t tell her that. Instead, I grip the arms of my chair tight, turning my knuckles white. I know I’m walking a narrow path; one slip and I will push my husband further into the arms of my lady-in-waiting. For now the woman is just a plaything, an infatuation.
Was this how Katherine felt when Henry fell in love with me? Did she know I was different than the ones who came before? That here was a woman who would not be content to be another Bessie Blount? I possess a strong mind and determined nature. And, even in those early days, I knew I would gamble all so as to not be so easily cast aside.
Do I have anything to fear from Jane Seymour? No, she is quiet and simple. She prefers embroidery to scheming. Henry is another matter. I’ve witnessed first hand the lengths he will go to have the wife he wants. How far will he go to get rid of…no, I cannot even think it! Jane’s star will fall and he will come back to me and I will give him the son that will lighten his heart for the rest of his days. I just need time. I must be patient. All will be well.
Throughout my internal deliberations, I feel Katherine’s eyes on me. They do not waver. Even now she thinks herself a queen and me, an imposter. A usurper.
‘What is it you want?’ I ask, exasperated.
For the moment, Katherine remains silent. The only sound I can hear is the ferocious beating of my own heart. Then she speaks. I know what she will say next; this exchange is taking its well-rehearsed path and we have been here many times before.
‘Did you celebrate, dear Anne, as they said you did? Did you smile, laugh, weep tears of joy at my passing?’
‘No!’ I cry out. It was true. I wasn’t happy on hearing the news of Katherine’s death. I was relieved. I hoped that we could distance ourselves from the tumult, the upheaval of the past ten years. Perhaps it was a fanciful notion, for it lingers still…The trouble has not yet quietened.
The ghost offers me a withering look. She does not believe me.
‘I will pray for you, little Anne, for all the wicked things you’ve done. You ensnared the king with your devilry. Between you and my bewitched husband, my dear lord, my king, you sought to bring me low. Now I am dead, beyond the reach of man, but comforted by God who knows only too well how I’ve been wronged.
‘You on the other hand, still walk amongst the living, at the mercy of a king who bears the burden of a dynasty still in its infancy. Do you think he will suffer your inability to give him the heir he so desires?’
‘He loves me! And our daughter.’
‘I do not doubt it.’ Katherine smiles wryly, as if concealing some secret. Her eyes are twinkling with mischief.
I’m so stunned by what I see, that my mask falls and I lose my composure. ‘What? Pray, tell me what you mean?’ I exclaim, no longer feeling I have the upper hand. ‘You mean to tell me it matters not how much joy my daughter brings her father? Or that his love for me–’
‘Is no longer in its ascendency? Only you, the closest in his affections, can know this.’
She is mocking me. Nevertheless, there is something about that look that somehow counters the words she spoke. This is a new development. What does she mean by it? Is there a message hidden in her words? No, there cannot be. Why would Katherine warn me? What would she gain from it? Unless, it was no warning but a premonition…a glimpse of a future that could not be changed?
I open my mouth to demand she explain, but the apparition is fading before my eyes. I can hear footsteps outside the bedchamber.
I try to compose myself. It wouldn’t do to look so agitated. Agitation can easily be mistaken for guilt. I close my eyes and seek to steady my breathing, but Katherine’s words will not leave me.
Panic rises in the pit of my stomach. Had I raised my voice to the Dowager Princess? If I was shouting…If someone heard…What if the person on the other side of the door thought I was not alone?
My sister, Mary, often warned me of being too clever. I could argue and debate with the sharpest of minds, but she frequently cautioned me of falling foul of simple things and simple people. The lesson returns to me now when I need it most. It does not do to be too clever when one’s own star is fading. I cannot not afford the taint associated with accusations, rumour and malicious gossip. I cannot not afford my reputation to be sullied. And I certainly cannot afford to give Henry cause to replace me.
There is no knock. No-one opens the door and enters. I wait with bated breath, until a few moments later, I hear footsteps once more, this time receding as whoever is responsible for them walks away.
When I have calmed a little, and feel I can trust my legs to bear me up, I stand. Crossing the room, I pour more wine and drain the cup. I ignore the fact my hands are shaking.
Tomorrow night, I decide, I will summon a physician and demand a sleeping tonic. I need to be more careful. I need to lay to rest the ghost of Princess Katherine. If I fail…it is not myself I fear for but my precious Elizabeth and her future.
Feeling steadier and more sure of myself, now that I can see clearly what I must do, I yawn. I need to rest, to recapture my beauty. These past few weeks it has begun to wane. My skin is pale and dull, and my eyes and hair no longer bright. How can I recapture my king’s heart if I do not out-shine all others?
With my heart resolved to fight against this reversal in fortune, I get in to bed. As soon as my head touches the soft pillow beneath it, I feel a sense of tranquillity, as if I know soon I will be asleep and tonight’s torment will be over. So I close my eyes, but I see before me a soldier. I do not know him; he has a stranger’s face. I’m soon to learn his significance.
Katherine’s voice whispers sweetly in my ear, ‘What is it they say about soldiers? Their first kill on the battlefield is always the hardest, but after that one, it becomes easier for them to dispatch their foes…Is it the same with kings and their queens, do you think?’
I sit up sharply, staring about the room, but it is empty. I am all alone, with nothing for company but my fears. And they are many.
THE END
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